Bad Company
by chaoswalking
Summary: After a botched hunt, Gabriel sends the gang into a parallel universe more terrifying than any they have witnessed before...high school. With popular jerks, bad math teachers, and psychotic fangirls on their trail, Sam, Dean and Castiel have to escape the woes of public education while fighting off demons who want them dead. (T for language. OC, spoilers abound) *ON BRIEF HIATUS*
1. Chapter 1: A Whole Lotta Rain

**A/N: I'm not particularly chatty, so I'll make this quick–This is a totally random story. Just some good ol' Sam and Dean arguments, Castiel's social ineptitude, Gabriel being...well, awesome, and some OC fun. I hope you like it! -chaoswalking**

It was raining. It always seemed to be raining nowadays, and Dean idly wished he could just sit down on the floor and watch the drops float lazily to the ground.

But no. There had to be a ghost involved.

"This graveyard smells like a Chuck-E-Cheeses birthday party, Sammy," Dean wrinkled his nose, leaning forward on his shovel. The rain was slowly filling their nice hole, and the beaten wood of the casket was turning an ugly shade of mud. "And not the awesome kind."

"There's no such thing as an awesome Chuck-E-Cheeses party, Dean." Sam yawned sleepily. He hadn't slept all last night.

"Shut up and keep digging, bitch," Dean snapped, gripping his shovel glumly.

"Jerk." But he wasn't that into it.

Ten minutes passed, each wetter and smellier than the next. In fact, the deeper Dean dug the mushy hole, the stronger the sickly sweet stench became. It was almost...chocolatey. The rain fell in diamond shards.

The case had gone as planned. Bobby called in a problem with a vengeful innkeeper in San Francisco, and Dean and Sam had hopped in the Impala, shoved in a Kansas cassette, and set off towards NorCal for some good old-fashioned huntin'.

Two days, one bruise, and seven beers later, they were getting ready to salt and burn.

It would have been perfect.

If only the casket hadn't been stuffed full of Hershey's chocolate kisses.

Sam frowned, rain slicking down his face in muddy gray rivers. He dropped his shovel with a dull clatter, and knelt down carefully to stare into the depths of a hundred thousand neatly foil-wrapped kisses.

"This isn't a dead innkeeper..." he managed bluntly after a few seconds. Dean rolled his eyes, wiping his muddy hands on the pockets of his jeans.

"No duh, Captain Obvious."

"C'mon, Dean, concentrate." Sam tried on his very best scholarly frown (Stanford trained). "This doesn't make any sense. We saw that old innkeeper. We saw what he did to those tourists."

"Yeah. Friggin' nasty if you ask me," Dean snorted.

"So why the hell is the casket full of candy?"

Silence.

Dean opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. He pursed his lips, shrugging.

"Friendly prank?"

Just then the sound of feathers broke through the static rain.

Castiel, his trench coat artfully rumpled, gave Dean a look of utter confusion.

"Why are you standing over a grave filled with chocolate confections, Dean?" he asked, head tilted in confusion.

Standing with all the grace of a dying hippo, Sam slipped to his feet, looking perplexed.

"Cas? What're you doing here?" He knotted his arms over his chest. Dean glared at the angel.

"Was this you, Cas? Did you do this? Man, I hate you stupid feathery douchebags!"

But Cas shook his head, frowning. He took a few steps forward, glancing at something over Dean's shoulder, something deep in the redwoods surrounding the small graveyard.

"No, this wasn't me," He squinted into the dark rain. It didn't seem to bother him that he was getting completely soaked, the rain now a pounding barrage of dense droplets. "But I think we should leave. Now."

He turned, hand already raised to touch the stunned Winchester's foreheads. He never reached them, however, because something shoved him sideways into a thick tree trunk.

"CAS!" Dean shouted, his hand already outstretched to yank the angel to his feet. He had crumpled at the base of the tree, a thin line of blood snaking down his face.

"Don't you worry, Deano," a horrifyingly familiar drawl drifted lazily from the destroyed grave. "My bro ain't nearly as breakable as you humans."

Sam and Dean turned slowly to stare into the grinning face of Gabriel.

"So," he clapped his hands together with a giggle. "Ready for our joyful reunion?"


	2. Chapter 2: Teenage Angst

**A/N: Sorry for the dense first chapter. I'm trying to get all the explanation crap sorted out quick so we can get to the goodness of Dean trying to figure out the quadratic formula. :) Please comment with any suggestions, complaints, et cetera, or PM me your quibbles :) Enjoy!**

Gabriel stood upon the desecrated earth with one eyebrow raised and his arms thrown out towards the Winchesters with a look of utter glee.

"So, whaddaya think, boys?" He twirled his fingers, motioning towards the melting chocolate grave. "Sweet enough surprise for you?"

Castiel stumbled to his feet, a dead glare fixed on his face.

"Gabriel, you–" He blinked, and tilted to the side, eyes spinning. Sam caught his shoulder before he crashed into the ground, however, and Gabriel gave another high-pitched laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, I missed my favorite idiotic punching bags! So I decided to drop in for a visit, see if I couldn't rustle up a little Trickster fun. How ya doin' Deano? Sammy-boy?"

Dean groaned. He could really use a beer and a _Dr. Sexy M.D. _marathon right now. And maybe a hot chick or two.

"Cut the crap, Gabriel," Sam snapped, trying to simultaneously balance Cas on his feet and look tall and important. It gave the illusion of an overgrown puppy trying to chase its tail. "What do want?"

Gabriel plastered on an innocent grin, taking a few slow steps forward. The rain slowed to a mist, and the trees swayed with a sudden breeze.

"Me? Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see how my bro Cassie's boyfriends are doing." He paused for Dean to flap his gums furiously, brow furrowed in frustration. "Plus, I really wanted to see the looks on your pathetic faces when I did this."

Sam's face went pale. Dean took a menacing step forward.

"Did...what?" He asked gruffly.

Gabriel smiled. In that instant, Dean could see the shadow of a grace so infinite and intense, he had to blink several times to burn the image in his brain away.

"Oh, this."

He snapped his fingers, wet with rain.

And everything went dark.

...

The alarm clock rings rather loudly, and Dean dully registers how much he dislikes the eight o' clock morning bell before school. He yawns grumpily, trying to avoid waking for as long as possible.

Until he realizes he's worried about school.

SCHOOL.

Dean jolts up, gasping for breath.

"The hell...?" he mutters sleepily, peering at the scene around him.

"No," comes Castiel's decidedly upset voice from somewhere in front of him. "I believe you call this institution 'high school'."

...

It took Dean a full twenty minutes to gauge the situation–he, Sam, and Cas were sitting across from one another on what appears to be a profanity stained bench. The morning was bright and cold, and silver slivers of dew hung from a nearby oak tree.

It terrified him.

"So what you're saying," He asked Cas slowly, while Sam frantically searched for his phone. "Is that Gabriel zapped us back to prom night with his angel juice?"

Cas pondered the metaphor riddles sentence, then nodded slowly.

"I do believe the term is 'alternate reality', but yes, Dean, you are correct."

Dean slapped a palm to his forehead. The day honestly couldn't get worse.

Beyond the fact that they had woken up on a dirty bench outside of a public high school, of course.

Sam, having found his phone, gave a triumphant grin. It quickly slid off his face, however, when he looked over at his brother and the angel.

"HOLY CRAP." He screamed (like a girl, Dean noted). "I mean, no offense intended towards Cas and...uh...holiness in general, but..." he gulped loudly, and pointed a shaky finger at the two stunned friends. "HOLY CRAP."

"What, Sammy?" Dean yelped frantically. "What?"

And then he realized.

With a shuffle of sudden panicked movement, he grabbed the phone from Sam's outstretched palm. Stared blankly at the screen.

And screamed like a girl.

He was seventeen again.

...

After the initial shock of being surly teens again, the three actually seemed to handle the situation well. They looked like themselves, only younger, so that wasn't too bad. It also seemed they retained what little maturity they had gained in adulthood.

"Friggin' Gabriel," Dean muttered half-heartedly. He moped over the dirty table with an air of utter hopelessness.

"Hey, it's not over yet," Sam offered helpfully. He looked like he was going to puke. "We just have to find the feathery bastard and make him send us back. Just like last time. Right, Cas?"

Cas was reading a line of graffiti with his signature confused-puppy head-tilt.

"I do not understand this," he said. "I have never heard this word 'shit' before."

Dean groaned.

"It's something you say when everything is hopeless, Cas," Sam explained patiently.

"Ah. Like now?"

Nearby, a bell rang shrilly though the frosty air, startling them out of their depressed stupor.

"Wait...d'you think...?" Sam started nervously.

"No, even Gabe ain't that mean..." but Dean sounded even more scared than Sam.

"I do believe my brother has left us three backpacks and a note written on a piece of lined paper," Cas stated glumly, holding a sheet of loose-leaf binder paper in front of him like it was attempting to bite his arm off.

They read it with sweaty palms.

_Dear Assholes,_

_Have fun in P.E.  
_

_Hugs and Kisses,  
_

_Gabe. :D  
_

Thus followed a heavy silence. Around them, people were starting to flow into the cluster of beige buildings around the picnic table and the tree.

"Shit," Said Cas.


	3. Chapter 3: The New Kids

**A/N: To all who read: thank you. That you great people took the time to review as well? It makes me so happy! Also: If you have any requests for classes for Sam, Dean, and Cas to take, demons to run into, or any OC ideas, just review or PM me! I'll try to take in some and use them. Enjoy!****  
...**

Sam Winchester, freshman, walked nervously into first period Integrated Science.

It didn't matter that he had saved the world (again), or had gone to Hell (and back) or that he was a soul forever entwined in the destinies of angels and demons.

Because right now, he was terrified.

_Stupid friggin' Gabriel__, _he thought furiously as he stood before the red lacquer door. _I swear to God I'm gonna kick his ass when we get out of here._

He took a deep breath, stretched out a palm to engulf the gum-painted doorknob, and opened the door.

...

Dean Winchester, junior, purposefully avoided going into first period.

He really saw no point in it. Who took beginning ceramics? Apparently, good ol' Gabe thought it would be _so hilarious_ to enroll him in effing CERAMICS. Like, the hell?

But Dean was a hero. He straightened his back, glanced at himself in a nearby window (he really was a handsome devil, wasn't he?) and headed towards room 467.

He was Dean Winchester, dammit. Anyone who thought he couldn't handle high school art classes could bite him.

He put on a confident smirk, and elbowed open the door.

...

Castiel, sophomore, stood in front of the honors American History class with a look of utter confusion.

He already knew the entire history of the Earth, the Heavens, and Hell. Plus, he'd witnessed first hand the battle of Antietam while performing a low-level angel errand for Raphael.

Why did he have to study it?

And what in the name of all that is holy was a _grade-point average_?

But he was an Angel of the Lord. He'd broken free of the oppression of Heaven, and defeated the monstrosity of Hell. He'd gotten drunk, rode in a car, and watched a really strange movie with Dean Winchester.

He could handle a human academic excursion.

With a distant feeling of pride, Cas pushed the door to his class open with all the grace he could muster. Which resulted in him tripping, but eventually he got there.

...

"Is Samantha Winchester here?" the teacher, a small, shrewd woman with oval glasses and a cup of decaf glued to her palm was starting roll.

Sam coughed.

"Um, present?" He raised a hand. A girl behind him snickered. "It's, uh, Sam. Just Sam."

"Oh." the teacher blinked and sniffed. She took a minute sip of her coffee, and shuffled the roll in her hand. "Sorry, dear, didn't see you there."

Sam felt a trickle of heat crawl up his face, and he slumped a little in his seat. This wasn't going well at all.

"Hey." someone was hissing at him. Sam jumped a little in his seat, twisting towards the mystery person. "Hey, Sam."

To his left sat a girl. She wore what appeared to be small top hat, adorned with a red ribbon that hung from the back like some sort of sassy flag, and a shirt advertising a show called _Firefly_. She smiled at him apologetically.

"Sorry about that. Kingsley is a little off her rocker, if you y'know what I mean."

Sam blinked. The girl smiled again, tapping her pencil against the wood of her desk in a steady rhythm.

"Oh!" He said quickly. "Uh, thanks..."

"Lira," she answered for him, offering a gloved hand. "Lira Meyers."

They shook, and Sam couldn't help but smile.

...

Dean raised a hand when the teacher barked his name, already leaning back in his chair with a look of boredom. It was a muscle memory of his, pulled from the caverns of his brain, and dusted off for (apparently) his second go at school.

"Hey, teach," he called back.

The ceramics teacher only gave him a deadpanned stare.

"You're Dean." she mumbled, scratching something gooey in her elbow. "Dean Winchester. Hmm."

It was going to be a long day.

After ten minutes, they'd done nothing but listen to Ms. Owens whisper dull warnings about the kiln and carving tools. Dean felt his eyelids start to sink, and he yawned, stretching his arms behind him and leaning back lazily in his chair.

"Do you mind?"

He jolted up.

Someone was giving him a sarcastic stare, a single eyebrow raised in question. She had dark hair, curly, and blue-green eyes the same shade as Sammy's.

Dean smirked.

"No. Do you?"

The girl, it seemed, was not amused.

"Oh, of course not. I'm perfectly pleased with having an idiot who failed freshman ceramics falling asleep on my desk. It's quite nice, actually." she spoke with a sarcastic lilt, but the edges of her mouth quirked into a smile.

Dean stuck out his hand.

"Dean Winchester."

"Ronan Hall."

Maybe he could learn to like ceramics after all.

...

Cas found the window very interesting. He watched as a tree swayed in the sudden early morning wind, the sky already bruising with purple storm clouds. Somewhat bitterly, he wondered what his brothers were doing.

"Castiel? Castiel Novak? Hello?"

Cas jumped. Humans talked too loud. He stared at the teacher who had just called his name, unsure of what to do next. Was he to say something? Stand up?

"Are you Castiel Novak?" The man asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I am not a Novak," Cas started, awkwardly. "But yes, my given name is Castiel."

There followed a silence. Someone giggled. Cas felt the eyes of thirty-two adolescent humans searing into his being, and he frowned. Had he done something wrong?

But just then, there was a loud bang.

Beside him, a girl had dropped her textbook somewhat clumsily. Cas jumped again, cursing Jimmy Novak's fidgety reactions. Why couldn't he just sit still? He missed the weight of his grace, the warmth of his wings.

The girl was blushing.

"Sorry, Mr. Garrison," she squeaked, dragging the plump book from the carpeted floor. "My bad."

The man (Mr. Garrison, Cas assumed) raised his eyebrow even further up his shiny forehead. His glasses were too large.

"Keep yourself together, Ms. Maribo," he sighed. But he was smiling. "And tell Mr. Novak that his textbook is under his seat."

The girl nodded violently, her blonde hair flipping over her shoulder.

"Sure."

The class began. Cas was given another sheet of lined paper (the same brand his fallen brother had used), and he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of someone's presence.

"Is your name_ really_ Castiel?" the girl was saying, her eyes wide. She wore too much eyeliner. "That's _so_ sick."

Cas remembered vaguely that Dean had warned him to be normal. Be human.

"Yes. What is your name?" He intoned, trying desperately to copy the casual lilt Dean always had in his speech.

"Chevelle! Chevelle Maribo. Well, actually, it's Chevelle Maxine Maribo, but haha! Nobody tells anybody their last name. Wow, your eyes are _so_ blue. Do you wear contacts?"

Cas decided to just smile, and see what happened.

...

They met up at the same bench they had awoken at, and by then a dull acceptance had settled over them. Sam pushed a bit of hair from his face and shrugged his shoulders in a deflated sort of way.

"For all the crap Gabriel could have thrown our way, this isn't so bad," he offered weakly.

Dean snorted.

"Yeah, okay Mr. Stanford," he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Easy for you to say. At least you didn't have freaking ceramics with a bunch of freshman."

"I am a freshman, Dean."

"Oh. Right. So...why are you still a Sasquatch?"

Sam shrugged again. He shifted his heavy backpack to his other shoulder.

"Guess this time around it's different. Speaking of which, Cas really needs to start dressing like a normal person. The trench coat's a little strange when you're sixteen."

Cas made a face that reminded Dean of a kitten left in the rain.

"But I like my trench coat," he protested.

"Don't whine, Cas. I thought we had this conversation?" Dean patted him on the back, which made him trip forward again. "Jesus, you're a klutz without your mojo."

Neither of them noticed Sam's smirk.

...  
The new substitute signed in at the front office. He arrived in an immaculate suit, his tie as black as his eyes.

The office aid giggled as he handed her his ID, giving her a grinning wink.

"Have a nice day, love."

And the King of Hell strolled off to his new classroom.


	4. Chapter 4: Dean Winchester Hates PE

**A/N: Hola, Mishamigos! Just wanted to say, hope you like my OCs! Sorry if you don't I promise they won't get in the way too much. Enjoy! -chaoswalking**

After lunch, the three consulted their schedules and found (with varying levels of excitement) that they were to share a P.E. class.

Dean, feeling suddenly energized, grinned broadly. Here was something he was good at! He'd just kick some ass at whatever sad attempt at sports the class was, and then get back to finding a way out of Crazyland...again.

Sam sighed. They were wasting time. They should have been out searching for where Gabriel was, not playing dodgeball, or whatever. It was time they got back to the real world.

Cas had no idea what P.E. was, but it sounded horrible.

...

"No, see, you don't hit people with the racket, Castiel. You hit the _birdie_."

Sam noticed a bleached-blonde girl standing next to Cas. She was average height, talked a bit too fast, and was wearing a fake flower in her bangs. He let out a signature pouty-face. What was with the girls in this school?

Next to them, a net had been hastily erected by the meek-voiced P.E. teacher. Dean was cowering on one side, his racket waving pointlessly in the air. On the other side, a girl with short black hair and a pair of stylish glasses was preparing to serve, a look of exasperation on her face.

"Dude, you're getting ganked by a girl," Sam pointed out, as Dean made a feeble attempt to swat away a rocketed projectile.

"I'm not built for this, okay?!" Dean shouted back, in between desperate waves of his arms. "I'm made for combat, not friggin' table tennis!"

"This isn't table tennis," The girl's partner, Ronan, called. "It's badminton."

Lira Meyers and Chevelle were now watching in amusement, a look of pity spreading across the latter's face.

"Your brother's so gonna die," Chevelle said. "Stella's good at everything."

Sam crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I guess so." He frowned, glancing between the two girls. They were almost identical, save for the hair and glasses, and slight height difference. "Are you guys related?"

"They're twins!" Lira piped up with a smile. Chevelle nodded.

The game went on. Stella swiped the birdie towards Cas' end of the court, and to the surprise of all gathered, he hit it back with surprising speed. Unfortunately, Ronan knocked it back, and Dean missed it entirely, sending his racket flying into the gym bleachers.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Watch your language, Dean."

"Shut your cakehole, Sammy!"

Thus, P.E. class was established as a complete and utter failure.

...

The final period of the day was Algebra. All three were gathered in the tiny, over-heated class at the back of the school, and Sam was surprised to see that Stella was there too. He took the opportunity to introduce himself.

"Stella, right? Stella Maribo?" He held out his hand. She shook it, giving a small smile.

"Yeah. You Sam Winchester?" she had an air of cool intelligence. Sam immediately liked her. "This school's okay, once you get used to it. Don't worry."

Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Speaking of which, do you guys have a teacher named, uh, Gabriel?"

Stella frowned, and adjusted her glasses with a pinky.

"Nope. We have a guy named Gabe in the senior class, but he rarely shows up. Kind of a slacker, y'know? Weird eating habits too."

It had to be the Archangel. Sam's brain started to whir, and he had to take a deep breath to control himself.

"Thanks."

The class began after the shrill first bell, and Sam wandered back to his seat between a frustrated Dean and a spaced-out Cas.

"Looks like we got a sub today," Stella said from her place two rows up. "Dude's British, too." she removed a white binder from her backpack, and started to arrange her homework in front of her.

Before Sam could reply, however, the door flew open with a bang, sending a cloud of dust into the already stuffy room.

And with a crooked grin and a snap of his fingers, in walked the substitute.

"Hello, class," said the man before them. "My name's Mr. Crowley. Now shut the hell up and get to work, you maggots."

...

Dean was fuming. He gripped the edges of the stupid connected-chair-and-desk, his knuckles already white. Crowley was here. This day just kept getting more and more effed up.

The demon sauntered up the aisle, taking his sweet time before leaning into the collected desks of the three.

"Cheerio, boys," he smirked. "Seems you've gotten a bit shorter since we last tangoed."

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, and you've only got douchier," he sneered. "Remind me why you're in Gabriel's little theme park again?"

Crowley just chuckled, leaning back pompously on his heels. His eyes flicked over them once again, and he gave a small sigh.

"It's just getting harder and harder to find a boot-licker competent enough to finish you idiots off. Figured I'd take the chance and follow you into the magic dry zone." He turned to Cas, who was staring at him with daggers in his eyes. "How is that, by the way? You feeling a bit low and ugly without your choirboy super powers, kitten?"

Cas responded by muttering an incantation in Enochian. It sounded vaguely like "bite me", but Dean couldn't be sure.

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

"That means you don't have any power here either, Crowley. Or did you miss that?"

"Oh no, Samantha. I didn't forget. In fact, I came prepared." He wiggled a finger in the air. "Your classmates? Could be demons, could be humans. For all you know, I've stocked this entire cesspool of hormones with my soldiers."

Sam's face went pale. His eyes flicked to where Stella was helping a short boy with shaggy hair solve a linear inequality with a graph. That couldn't mean...were Chevelle, Lira, Ronan, and Stella...?

"Oh, don't worry. Your...fangirls... are all human. Just a bit wonky, that's all."

"You slimy son of a–"

Crowley cleared his throat loudly.

"One more word from you, Winchester," he barked, his voice echoing throughout the classroom. "And you, Sasquatch, and Feathers can spend next lunch in here for detention."

Dean growled. Sam stepped on his foot, hoping he wouldn't make a scene. The eyes of thirty-so students were affixed on them now.

"Crowley, you will not threaten us with empty lies," Cas said quietly. Sam jabbed him in the shin with his sneaker, shooting him a warning glance. The girl next to him was staring.

"Oh, but I will." Crowley grinned again. "You see boys, I'm bigger now. And I brought friends."

With that, he strode to the front of the class, picked up a marker, and began to demonstrate whether y3.67x+8 could be graphed with y7x-4.5.

...


	5. Chapter 5: Wrong Rabbit Hole, Moron

**A/N: So, apparently, according to the CW, I've been spelling "Cas" wrong the whole time. They say it's spelled "Cass". Even so, I'm gonna just keep it the same to avoid confusion...(what the frak, CW?) :D anyway, enjoy!**

**P.S. I forgot to do this disclaimer thingy when I started, so here goes: I don't own "Supernatural" or it's respective badass characters. I just worship them religiously...  
**

**...**

It was time to clear up the whole incognito Gabriel thing, Dean decided, while absently sharpening one of his knives against a nearby rock. The school day was over, and the three had gathered outside the large cement arch that led to to the main hall.

"I say we find him now, get this over with." Sam said, his voice patiently studious. "We can get back to the real world before tonight."

Dean agreed. But he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He tightened his grip on his knife, and dragged his leather jacket over his shoulders.

"We gotta find the sneaky bastard first." He pointed out, watching a group of students pass. They were discussing in deep detail the plans for the next Mathletes meeting. He shuddered. "I have to get out of this freak show, Sammy."

Being Winchesters, a series of sympathetic/exasperated looks were passed. A cold wind snaked through the campus, and Sam suddenly realized something.

"Wait," he said, slowly. "If we're stuck here until we find Gabriel...where the hell are we gonna sleep?"

...

The next morning, Dean decided sleeping under benches at public high schools wasn't exactly pleasant. He grumbled sleepily as he gathered himself, yawning.

Sam and Castiel were still asleep. He stretched a little, throwing on his old leather jacket with a puff of dust from the ground on which it had fallen during the night. The air was still violently cold, and the school was painted violet and blue in the dawn dark.

Dean couldn't help but smile. It wasn't right, he knew, that they were stuck here (and with Crowley no less), but at least for now his little brother and his best friend were completely safe. No magic here. It may not have been perfect, but at least he wasn't checking every room for sulfur or carving angel warding sigils into the walls.

"Dean," Cas' voice startled Dean out of his daydream. He vaulted backwards, slamming into the bench, which then consequently caused Cas to fall on his face and land on the ground with a squeak of anger.

Dean stifled his giggle.

"Oops," he said. "Sorry, Cas."

The Angel climbed to his feet. His tie was askew, and a leaf clung to his messy black hair. He glared at Dean.

It only made Dean laugh harder.

"Dude, you look like you just made out with a tree," he cackled.

"I do not believe this is funny, Dean," Cas replied indignantly, shifting from foot to foot. He wasn't used to not being feared when upset. "You don't amuse me. And what is "making out"?"

Sam was awake now. He sat up slowly, his hair shooting out in all directions.

"Dea..? Casti...?" He attempted, before yawning loudly. "Wha're you...doin'..?"

"Dean Winchester here was trying to imply I was "making out" with a tree." Cas made awkward air quote movements. "And I was in the process of telling him how utterly insensitive and highly unintelligent he appears in doing so."

Sam mumbled something like "too many big words". Or maybe it was "flu penny fig turds". Either way, he seemed decidedly uninterested, and fell back to sleep with a loud snort.

Dean sighed dramatically, and pouted.

"Wow, Cas, that really hurt my feelings. I'm gonna go cry my friggin' eyes out."

Cas took a menacing step towards Dean. It was meant to be a threat, but he just looked ridiculous in his rumpled trench coat, the leaf still lodged in his hair. Plus, he was a few inches shorter than Dean.

Dean snorted with laughter again.

And Cas just looked confused.

...

Around twelve o' clock, they found themselves standing somewhat haplessly in the middle of the campus. Around them, students were gabbing away at friends, clutching binders and books and bags. A boy with a large feathered fedora passed, talking rather excitedly to a girl wearing what looked like an oversized pink onesie.

"Um," Sam looked around. "Where's the cafeteria?"

"We don't have one," Lira was suddenly behind them, Chevelle and Ronan in tow.

"Why?" Dean asked grumpily, trying not to show how unnerved he was at their sudden appearance (like they could goddamn teleport). "I'm starving over here."

"It's an off-campus lunch, Dean," Ronan replied. Chevelle nodded.

"So, what, is this some kinda hippie school?" Dean was getting tired of this universe. He flapped his arms angrily. "I'm gonna rip Gabriel's face off when I find his feathery ass."

Lira blinked, Chevelle looked shocked, and Ronan raised an eyebrow. They all stared at him in unison.

"Uh...what he means is..." Sam cut him off with a nervous laugh, desperately trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"We do not appreciate the lack of sufficient food on campus." Cas finished awkwardly. He tried to smile. It made him look like he was in pain. "And, ah, his friend Gabriel owes Dean some money."

The three girls glanced at each other. Lira smiled spacily, Chevelle shrugged, and Ronan smirked. Sam let out a relieved breath, and made a mental note to buy Cas anything he wanted once they returned to real life. Maybe even a new outfit, because the trench coat really was kind of creepy, now that he thought about it...

Just then, Stella shot by, a look of warning on her face.

"Upperclassman douchebag, twelve o' clock," she hissed, looping an arm around Chevelle and dragging her away. Lira jumped after them a second later, followed by Ronan, who stopped to give Dean a look that said _run, dumbass_.

He couldn't help but agree.

But before the three could make their daring escape, a familiar voice pierced the air.

"Well, look at that," said Gabriel, with a smirk. "Deano, Sammy, and my little brother Cassie. Who woulda thunk it!"

He strolled towards them lazily. Like them, Gabriel appeared to be in the same vessel, only younger, and he wore a thick blue letterman's jacket, adorned with the initials of the school. A pair of hipster-shaped sunglasses were perched on his head, and he grinned jauntily.

Dean growled.

"Gabriel, you son of a bitch!" he lunged forward, producing a knife from his jacket. With a desperate slice, he managed to snag the Archangel's arm, and a spark of white Grace slipped out.

But Gabriel just smiled his easy smile, running a finger over the cut. The skin wormed back together, and the white light vanished, leaving Dean standing a little to close to a short senior, his knife still brandished in broad daylight.

"Now where," Gabriel scolded, flicking Dean backwards into a trashcan. "Did you get an Angel blade?"

He stared purposefully at Cas, a look of mock sadness drawn over his face. Cas blushed (and Dean couldn't help but take a mental snapshot to piss the guy off with later), and opened his mouth awkwardly.

"I don't have any idea?" He tried.

A second later he had joined Dean by the trashcan.

Sam braced himself, spreading his feet apart so that he could take a hand-to-hand attack. His heart was slapping wildly at his ribcage, the same nervous adrenaline he felt every time he and Dean plunged headfirst into danger. Except this time, he had no magical aid, no renegade Angels, no fresh demon blood. He was fifteen, for Pete's sake. What could he do?

"Oh, relax, Sparky," Gabriel rolled his eyes. He fished a Tootsie Pop from his letterman jacket pocket, and tossed it in his mouth, stick and all. "I just came to talk. It ain't my fault you guys are all hyped-up on hormones."

The muffled sound of "bite me" came from the trashcan. Cas was trying (and failing) to pull Dean from it's murky depths, as he had gone in headfirst.

"Nope," Gabriel said. He sucked on the lollipop viciously for a second, before popping it out again to grin cheekily. "Sorry, but I need a little more than that from you morons today."

Castiel performed his signature eye squint, loosening his hold on Dean's protruding ankles for a second. That was all it took for the elder Winchester to tumble back into the trashcan with a nasty squish. A furious windstorm of cursing came loudly from the plastic bin.

"You have no idea how much trouble you've caused, brother," Cas snarled, choosing to ignore the flailing Dean. "You've brought the demon Crowley on our trail, and I have no Grace left to return him to Hell."

Gabriel snorted.

"You think I wanted that pompous prat messing with my Wonderland?" he angrily chewed his lollipop, reminding Sam vaguely of a disobedient child. "I didn't want him to crash my rabbit hole, you asshat. He just did. And now I need him out."

"Oh yeah, and we should trust _you_," Dean said from his smelly seat. He had half-climbed from the can. "The guy who friggin' sent us to this crappy hellhole."

He tried to get a leg up out of the trashcan, but only managed to tip it over–and straight into Castiel. With an _oof_ Dean landed on top of the Angel.

Sam and Gabriel facepalmed in perfect unison.

"I don't see any other options for ya, Deano," Gabriel said loudly. He watched as Dean jumped to his feet, and the flattened Cas mumbled more Enochian insults under his breath. "As of now, you're just another Justin Bieber with a bad sense of fashion, and I'm the one who controls your ass."

"Who is Justin–" Cas began.

"Shut up. Cas," Sam, Dean, and Gabriel snapped in unison.

The Archangel before them offered another slimy grin.

"Besides, if you do help me save all the good little children from the hell spawn, I'll send you back to good ol' Reality."

And that was how a truce was made between a boy covered in trash and magical upperclassman eating a lollipop.


	6. Chapter 6: I Change The Universe

**A/N: Why do I make Castiel so awkward? 'CAUSE HE'S SO FRIGGIN' ADORABLE :D. Peace out. -chaoswalking**

**p.s. I may or may not, um, create an accidental paradox, or an Inception-type mindfrak in this chapter by having Castiel mention Misha Collins...sorry...hehe :P  
...**

Crowley paced the classroom. It was unnecessarily stuffy in the school, and the notion of air conditioning seemed vaguely mythical to whatever dunce had built this universe. He adjusted his suit, an air of frustration settling over him.

Sure, he'd brought a decent sized clump of demons with him, but he hadn't quite guessed the probability of this universe being utterly devoid of magic. Crowley found himself missing his King Of Hell perks–he'd just have to get by on his winning personality and cheeky since of humor then.

So back to this evil plan of murder and deceit. Crowley began to write on the whiteboard, the fading purple ink of the pen jutting out into a series of complicated symbols. They were old, older than himself, and they reeked of Heaven and it's soldiers, but Crowley knew he had to use them.

It was the only way to exact his revenge. Because really. He didn't think he could stand one more day of teaching remedial algebra to a bunch of teenaged humans.

He shot back a bottle of whiskey, and continued his work.

...

Gabriel was an uncomfortable addition to their group. He was loud, obnoxious, and smelled vaguely like a scratch-and-sniff magazine ad.

But what ticked Dean off the most was that everyone seemed to love him.

"Wow!" Chevelle said for the hundredth time, her pale brown eyes alight. "I had _no idea_ you saved an entire forest of trees, Gabe! That is _so_ brave."

Lira chewed thoughtfully on what looked like some sort of Japanese cake.

"I like trees," she offered a bit spacily.

Ronan laughed a loud, genuine laugh.

"Chevelle, you don't need to fangirl about anything else. I swear you're gonna burst a blood vessel. I mean, who was that actor you were obsessing over last week?"

Chevelle looked hurt.

"His name is Misha Collins," she pouted. "And he shall be mine."

This created an awkward silence among the male members of the group. Finally, Cas spoke up.

"Who is Misha–"

"Shut up, Cas," the group dutifully chorused.

He sulked in his trench coat.

Gabriel sat there with an amused look on his face. He kept giving Dean and Sam meaningful glances, trying to stave their attention away from the three girls, but it was to no avail. It wasn't like they had a choice–their new friends were bombarding them with awkward questions.

"So are you and Sam actual brothers, or like, 'spiritual' brothers, y'know?"

"Have you ever completed each other's sentences?"

"What's your favorite kind of pie?"

In the end, Dean had simply mumbled a few irrelevant answers, and prayed for the bell to ring.

...

As soon as lunch ended, Gabriel pulled Dean aside. Still smarting from what will later be known as "Great Trashcan Incident", he warily raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn't you have controlled your Non-Player Characters a little there, Mr. Big Bad Archangel?" He mumbled grumpily, ears smarting. He'd just gotten through explaining his amulet to the girls, and was met with a collection of 'awwwws' that literally made him want to barf. Sam had found it highly amusing.

"Can't. They got minds of their own, bless their annoying hearts," Gabriel replied back shortly. "Look, Deano, we gotta do this fast. Crowley's cooking something nasty up, and I think we should just shut him in here while we can."

Dean stopped in his tracks.

"Woah, woah. Not that I don;t agree with you and all, 'cause I do, Crowley's an asshat," he began unsteadily. "But I ain't exactly going to let you just take the lead here. I don't trust you."

In the instant that followed, the sky suddenly got very cold. Everyone around them stopped: their eyes were blank, their necks suddenly strained towards Dean. A bird, mid-flight, froze.

Everything was focused on him.

Behind him, Sam and Cas were frozen too, locked in the scene. With eerie unease, Dean watched them. Their eyes were still moving; Sam's pale green ones flicking anxiously, and Cas' vivid blue ones flashing with sudden apprehension.

"I can change the universe, Dean Winchester," Gabriel said quietly. There was no laughter in his voice. "Don't think you can forget that."

He smirked.

And just like that, the world fell back into ordered chaos.

Dean gulped. The bird flapped away. The students around them snapped back into their hurried, paced walks, and Sam and Cas slumped forward, breathing heavily. The sky was blue and bright again.

"Fine," Dean growled. "You lead."

Gabriel grinned again, and disappeared into the crowd.

...

AP Drawing and Painting turned out to include not only Sam, but Gabriel too. Castiel decided he liked this classroom. It was situated at the top of a tall building, and the muddled brown-green of a few nearby trees pecked at the wide picture windows. It reminded him of a Heaven he used to visit when he was a fledgling...

"Hey, Cas, I didn't know you could draw," Sam peered over at Cas' paper.

"I cannot," Cas replied indignantly. "I'm simply doing as the instructor asked." He reached hastily to cover his work, his trench coat sleeve smudging slightly in the charcoal and colored chalk.

But Gabriel got there first. He snatched up the sheet, a mega-watt grin stretching across his face.

"Aww, how cute," he giggled, handing the paper over to Sam, who eagerly snatched it up. Sam's face broke out into what looked like a polite attempt at being serious.

"Wait..." he said, slowly, rotating the paper. Cas could feel his face going red. "Did you draw a...kitten?"

Indeed he did. In all honesty, it wasn't just a kitten. It was some memory Jimmy Novak had stored in the back of his brain, and cas had just yanked it out at random. He hadn't even noticed the heart-shaped bow and rainbow background until too late.

"Of course not," he said hurriedly, the hot blush creeping across his face. "I was simply, um, recreating a memory my vessel had in his childhood–"

"I gotta send this to Dean," Sam giggled. He was taking pictures with his cell phone. Gabriel was busy trying not to die of laughter. It wasn't working particularly well, a his breath came out short and rushed, and he was rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Wait until the fam hears 'bout this," he cackled evilly. "I bet you'll never be able to talk to our brothers seriously again."

In that moment, Castiel decided he hated art class.

...

In the darkness of an abandoned classroom, Crowley gave a shiny smile. He stepped back from where he stood, blood painting his new Italian loafers. A shame, really, but that could be fixed after that idiot Dean, his floppy moron of a brother Sam, and their pet Angel were rotting on the football field.

He carefully pushed back the limp corpses of the sacrificed students, and finished the Latin chant with a curl of his lips. It was all done. He'd successfully strengthened his ranks.

As the two new demons stepped into the room, the smell of sulfur was sweet and cloying and utterly wonderful. He breathed it in sharply, and grinned again, spreading his arms as the arrivals looked around.

"Welcome to Suburbia," Crowley said. "Azazel and Alistair."

...


	7. Chapter 7: Making Out

**A/N: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the faithful reviewers :) You guys make me laugh, think, and update my ass off so I don't make anyone sad. Don't be cry! So this is for you, Byrneshadow, sock-feet-and-stirring-sand, WinJennster, Sixinfinty, SPNfan, and arealkiss! If I spelled your name wrong by accident, then may o holy Chuck smite me. **

**P.S. I realized last night (in between fangirling over videos of Misha Collins reading his poetry) that there are some spelling/grammar typos. I will try to fix those! I'll shut up now :3 -chaoswalking  
**

**...**

"Oh, Baby!" Dean had managed to wrap what seemed like his entire being around the hood of the Impala. "I missed you so much!"

Gabriel chewed on a Tootsie roll.

"Y'know, Deano, that's not technically the real car," he chuckled. Dean was too busy planting sloppy kisses on the muddy hood to care. Cas leaned in towards Sam, staring at the scene in front of him with a horrified look, as if it all offended him AND his mother.

"Is that "making out"?" he asked, once again making quote marks in the air.

"Uh..." Sam fumbled for the words. He didn't exactly want to tell Cas the real definition..."Yeah, Cas. That's making out."

"Y'see Cassie, when an idiot and his car love each other very much..." Gabriel said loudly. Sam slapped him upside the head.

Meanwhile, Dean was straightening himself up. He gave a confident smirk, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, now that we've got the weapons and Baby, we can go take down that assbutt Crowley and his smelly cronies," he said. Gabriel popped another Tootsie roll into his mouth, crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it at Sam. It hit him in the head, and bounced off.

"Yeah, about that." he shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave the company a sheepish grin. "I think Crowley's called a few big guns in here. High-class bad boys."

Sam's heart sank.

"So you're telling us," he said slowly. "That we've got _more_ crap to deal with?" (He still couldn't get his locker open).

Gabriel raised his hands innocently, giving Sam an incredulous look.

"Hey, you want my help, you follow my lead," he replied. "Besides, it doesn't matter what players they brought in to pinch hit. They ain't got any more steroids than Cas or Crowley in here."

Dean couldn't help but groan. He slid far enough of his car to give Gabriel what he hoped was a scathing, sarcastic glare.

"So who'd he summon? Ruby? Meg?"

"Azazel and Alistair, actually."

Sam's neck snapped sideways to gape at Gabriel.

"Yellow-eyes?" He managed to stutter, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "He raised friggin' _Yellow-eyes_?"

"It appears our friendly neighborhood demon is attempting to screw with your noggins, here, boyos," Gabriel answered cheerily, his broad smile stained with candy. He clapped the catatonic Sam loudly on the shoulder, and rubbed his palms together excitedly. "So, the way I figure, we gank Mr. Contact-Lenses and the Human Razor first, then we get after the King himself. Got it?"

He was greeted by two sets of rather pissed green eyes.

"Okay, then. One, two, three, go team!" Gabriel did a weak fist pump. "Nothing? Fine. Be that way."

Castiel cleared his throat.

"Is it necessary to kill the demons with Ruby's knife? Or are they in such a state of humanity we can simply kill them traditionally?" He asked. Gabriel snapped gleefully, and wrapped an arm around his brother's neck, putting him into a sort of loving headlock (which made Cas quite irritated).

"Exactly! So all you guys really need to do is stick one of 'em, and you're good! It also means Cas ain't exactly invincible, but hey. Nobody's perfect." He let go of Cas, and one again dug his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "So we split into teams."

"I get Sam," Dean blurted, just as Cas said "I get Dean."

In the end, a peeved looking Dean and a satisfied Cas stood at arms length from Gabriel and Sam (who was forcing himself not to strangle his partner).

"Right. You get Alistair. We get Azazel," Gabriel ordered, pulling an extra blade from his sleeve. It was a lethal looking dagger, runes carved in scarlet on the rusted hilt. He handed it to Dean, who pocketed it grumpily. "Meet in the middle, four o' clock."

They separated.

...

Azazel felt good, considering he had just been raised from the dead. He stretched lazily in his new vessel, liking the taste of air on his tongue.

Now, if only Crowley hadn't dumped him in a high school.

"This is humiliating," he thought to himself, a frown edging onto his brow. "I didn't sign up to be a babysitter."

But Crowley had promised him Sam Winchester's head on a platter, and that was an offer the Yellow-eyed Demon couldn't just refuse. He'd been waiting for_ever_ to get revenge on those goddamn Winchester boys for shooting him, and if it happened to be in an alternate reality, so be it. He was looking forward to seeing the look on their faces as they watched each other die.

In the meantime, he was washing the floor of an overflowing bathroom stall. Because of course Crowley had gotten him a job as a janitor. Of course.

...

Alistair paced the main gym quietly, his shoes barely making a sound on the dust-coated wood floor. He fingered a pencil in his pocket, the sharp tip just_ itching_ to be driven into the skull of an unexpected visitor. He spun the utensil slowly in his palm, taking it out to observe the black point. _Just perfect_. He grinned.

He'd been waiting so long. So long to show his best student what _perfection_ really was.

"I have something new for you today, Dean Winchester," he chuckled to himself. "Something _brand new_."

...

Sam and Gabriel were about as stealthy as two hippos attempting to delicately pick their way through an antique china shop. Gabriel kept "accidentally" smiting random students who got in their way, and Sam kept inadvertently bumping into things.

"Would you shut up?" He hissed at the gleeful Archangel for the fourth time. They were nearing a set of particularly smelly bathrooms on the upper floor of the English/Languages building. "French Club is gonna hear us!"

"I'll just smite their asses," Gabriel shrugged. He was now eating what appeared to be an oversize candy bar.

"You can't just _kill people_," Sam started to lecture, his classic bitch-face spreading across his features. "It's _rude_."

"They're just illusions," Gabriel snorted. "Bleeding-heart liberal, are you?"

Before Sam could sling back a sassy retort, a loud slurping sound emitted from the direction of the bathrooms, followed by a string of curse words. A disturbing odor wafted down the hallway, and Sam slapped a palm to his nose in disgust.

"HOLY CRAP." he hissed nasally. "I thig I jud drew ub in by moud."*

Gabriel was just giggling, waving his candy bar around like a large baseball bat.

"Haha!" he teased. "Angels don't have to smell it! Too bad!"

Sam slapped him upside the head again, which resulted in him getting a chocolate-covered bruise on his arm.

Just then, someone tumbled from the bathroom, coughing and waving his arms in desperation. It was the janitor (judging by his dark blue jumpsuit and clumpy broom).

But there was something wrong with his eyes. The irises, so familiar in Sam's memory, were laced with the palest of yellows.

Across the hall, the janitor grinned. He dropped his filthy broom, wiping something dark away on his pants, and tilted his head.

"Hello, Sammy-boy," Azazel said. "It's been awhile, ain't it?"

...

Dean had to continually check over his shoulder to make sure Cas was still following him. Once, he had gotten distracted by what appeared to be a stray, rabid cat, and Dean had to literally drag him away before they both contracted some weird-ass cat illness.

"Dude, focus," he whispered angrily for the hundredth time. He couldn't believe that he, Dean Winchester, was saying this to friggin' Holy Tax Accountant Castiel. But these were strange days, he mused, sneaking oh-so-stealthily around a corner.

They made it as far as the gym. Dean was all for skipping the place (all the lights were off, and there was nothing to be seen but the dusty silhouette of a single teacher), but Cas had stopped, a hand on Dean's arm.

"This is it," he said quietly, his eyes focused on something over Dean's shoulder. The guy was terrible at eye contact. "This is where the demon is."

Dean couldn't help but feel cold. As if someone had carefully injected him with liquid nitrogen, and it was worming it's way slowly to his heart.

They tried to pick open the lock. Dean had salvaged a few lockpicks from the Impala, and he poked them desperately into the hole to no avail. It seemed they would have to break the doors down. "What the hell," Dean thought, with a shrug. "It's just a stupid alternate universe. What's the worst that could happen?"

It turned out that would be the teacher in the gym throwing open the doors with a stern expression.

"What are you two..._loitering_ around here for?" the man asked. He had an unnervingly quiet voice. Dean noticed, somewhat distractedly, that the teacher was twirling a sharpened pencil between his fingers.

"We, uh," he raked his brain for an excuse. "Um..."

"We were 'making out'," Cas filled in. His air quotes were starting to piss Dean off, and he shot the Angel a furious glare.

"No, we weren't, uh...sir...?" he answered a little too forcefully.

The teacher raised an eyebrow. A quirk of a smile crossed his face, and the pencil picked up speed.

"That would make sense," he slurred. "If I didn't already know what you were doing here."

Dean blinked. Cas' eyes suddenly widened.

"You're Alistair," he said. "You're the one who tortures the souls in Hell."

With a delicate twitch of his hand, the man flicked the pencil. It hit Castiel straight in the arm, the tip only embedding slightly in his trench coat. A thin sliver of blood trickled across the fabric, and Cas flinched.

"Why don't _you_ ask Dean," Alistair grinned. "I'm sure he _remembers_ a whole _lot_ about me."

...

*Translated from barf: "I think I just threw up in my mouth". Peace out. -chaoswalking


	8. Chapter 8: A Really Bad Day

**A/N: GUYS. Good news. I have acquired a deviantART. Lost-in-Catatonia is mah name. Please please check it out, I look like such a loner with no comments :D**

**Do y'all want some pairings or cutesy slash? Do tell, I'm here to entertain after all. :)  
**

**Also, thanks to the usual suspects. Dean would have never been thrown in a large bin of waste if it wasn't for you.  
**

**-chaoswalking  
**

**...  
**

Azazel picked his broom back up, his yellow irises narrowed in concentration. He was smiling. Unfortunately for him, Crowley had shoved him into the body of a short, pudgy, middle-aged man, so it didn't look terribly threatening (especially since he was brandishing cleaning products at them).

"Gabriel, you never learn," Azazel called down the hall. "Still messing around with your little playgrounds? Please, you're embarrassing me."

"Yeah, well, your _face_," Gabriel shouted back. Sam raised an eyebrow. Seriously? The goddamn Trickster with a "your face" joke. What was this parallel world coming to?

Azazel found this highly insulting, however, and waved his broom in the air with the look of an old crone declaring blasphemy.

"I'm gonna rip you heart out," he snarled. "And you, Sammy boy. I'm gonna make you _bleed_ for what you and your brother did to me!"

He had, suddenly in his hand, an Angel blade, the tip pointed down towards the floor. Azazel began to run at the speed of an obese man. Sam tried very hard to be frightened, he really did, but he gave up and just tried to look intimidating himself.

"What do we do?" He shouted to Gabriel as he dodged a flying demon janitor. Gabriel smirked his classic smirk.

"You forgot who runs this lemonade stand, amigo," Gabriel replied. He snapped his fingers lazily, and...

Nothing happened.

The smile slipped slightly from his face.

Sam tripped the advancing Azazel with a large sneaker, but it was to no avail. He kept charging, his blade aimed straight at Sam's heart.

"Gabriel!" Sam barked again in a panic. "The hell man?"

But Gabriel had disappeared.

...

Alistair chuckled. It was an all too familiar sound to Dean, and the air outside the gym was suddenly chilled with apprehension.

"You thought you _killed_ me, didn't you?" Alistair gloated quietly, taking a further step towards them. "You _thought_ oh, old Mr. Alistair is _dead_ and gone, now, _didn_'_t _you? Well, sorry, boys. _I'm _back." He wheezed a little.

Castiel had pulled the pencil from his arm, giving Dean a hard stare. He was probably thinking something along the lines of _what the hell I thought Sam ganked this motherf****r, _but Dean couldn't be sure. All he really knew was that he needed to stall, and fast.

He couldn't decide, however, how to go about distracting the friggin' butcher-man of the Cage. The options were sparse: potentially, he could either throw Cas at Alistair, find that old cat and throw it at Alistair, or throw something else at Alistair.

Decisions, decisions.

"Cas, say something Angelic and confusing," Dean hissed into Cas' ear.

"I'm not entirely proficient in social interaction, Dean," Cas muttered back in a disinterested monotone.

"Well think of something fast, you feathery idiot!"

Alistair was rolling another sharpened pencil between his pointer finger and thumb. He looked mildly amused, and Dean more than knew he didn't intend to kill them right away. No, he had to torture them, as slowly and painfully as possible.

"As much as your _couple_ chat amuses me, I'm _afraid_ I'm going to have to–"

"Knock knock." Cas cut over the ranting demon. He looked extremely uncomfortable doing so.

"What're you _talking _about, you _filthy_ Angel...?" Alistair blinked, looking nearly as perplexed as Castiel.

"Who's there? Uh...Doctor!" Cas answered himself nervously. Dean resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearby gym wall.

"Doctor..._who_?" Alistair asked furiously.

"I...don't understand that reference..." Cas tilted his head, his blue eyes clouded over. He had confused himself.

"CAS, NOW!" Dean shouted. He tossed Cas his knife, praying to whoever the hell ran the pearly gates these days that the trench-coated dolt would catch it.

But just as the Angel stretched to catch the rotating blade, he vanished.

A flicker, and he was gone.

The knife clattered to the floor emptily, and Dean's head spun in circles.

"Cas...?" he whispered hesitatantly. "Cas, where...?"

Alistair was laughing. Dean gulped.

Throwing that cat was starting to look real good about now.

...

Castiel landed on the floor in an unceremonious heap. He had forgotten the feel of being human, the feel of skin and bone and clumsiness when it came to being randomly summoned in the middle of a really bad knock-knock joke.

He managed, however dizzily, to stumble to his feet.

"Gabriel," he growled, spinning in the circles. Whatever classroom he was in was completely dark. "Brother, this is not funny. Dean is in danger."

From a corner to his left, someone chuckled drily.

"Yeah, well, hate to break it to you Cassie, but I ain't exactly controlling anything here."

The lights flicked on, the cheap fluorescent glow revealing Gabriel himself, leaning against a nearby desk with his arms knotted in frustration. They were in the algebra classroom, the same one Cas had been assigned three days earlier.

Gabriel was surrounded by a ring of holy fire.

Cas looked down at his feet, panic burning through his bones. If Gabriel was trapped then–

"Oh, sorry about the precautions, kitten. Just didn't want my face melted off. That's all."

Cas was too. He raised his head slowly to meet Crowley's smug grin, fists already clenching at his sides.

"You again," he hissed. "I swear, if anything happens to Sam and Dean I will–"

"What?" Crowley tapped his chin in mock curiosity. "Smite me? Exorcise me? Or maybe burn my bones and kill me? Nah, sorry mate. I'm not playing around anymore."

He strolled calmly over to where Gabriel stood.

"You see? This is _my_ universe now. I can do whatever the bloody hell I want with it, and that includes killing your dear Winchesters."

"You asshat! You screwed with my Grace!" Gabriel shouted grumpily. Crowley sighed dramatically, and wandered over to where Cas stood fuming.

"Yeah, I suppose I did, but it was for a good cause! I make a deal with you, you and Castiel get out of here alive."

"Don't agree to anything he says, brother," Cas interrupted quickly. He did not like where this was going.

"You don't have a say in this, mate."

Gabriel cleared his throat expectantly, and Crowley rolled his eyes at Cas.

"Moving on," he said loudly. "If Gabe here gives me full reign AND traps Lilo and Stitch in here at the mercy of my cronies, then I don't kill you violently. Deal?"

A tense moment followed, in which Cas imagined Crowley's head to be impaled by a unicorn.

Gabriel reached out a hand. His eyes flicked momentarily to Cas, a look of apology in them, before turning back to the waiting King of Hell.

But just as he opened his mouth to agree, there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Crowley?" came the voice of one Chevelle Maribo. "We need help on some homework. And we're going to kick your ass, but fractions first."

...

...


	9. Chapter 9: Distraction Mechanisms

**A/N: Well, give me an awkward sweater and call me Batman, the new episode of Supernatural blew my friggin' mind. **

**Dean, please hug Cas(s). You know you want to.**

**Sorry for the late update! Madness, I tell you! Blasphemy! I apologize in advance for the pure and utter foolishness that happens in this chapter. It was damn fun to write, though. Hehheh...awkward slash...  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

**-chaoswalking  
**

**...  
**

Dean felt his arm crunch a little underneath him as he was thrown backwards into the gym wall. The smell of sweat and locker room filled his nose, and he coughed.

"Jesus, man, does this dump even _have_ a janitor?" he muttered, pulling himself up just in time to have Alistair's fist collide with his nose.

"Yes it _does_, Dean, but I think he's a _little_ busy killing your brother."

Dean frowned. That wasn't something you heard everyday.

Meanwhile, Alistair was giggling again. He wiped his bloody hand on his jacket front, and smiled.

"It's actually _nice_ to be able to do this _face-to-face_," he said. "Hell was so _impersonal, _don't you think, Dean?"

Dean, however, didn't get a chance to reply. Something dark and heavy was hurtling towards Alistair's head at a hundred miles per hour.

The demon blinked dazedly (once, twice), before slumping to the floor of the gym.

Behind him, wielding what look like the seventh Harry Potter book, was Ronan Hall, freshman ceramics, period one.

She looked down at Dean Winchester with an exasperated sigh.

"Can you do anything right?"

...

Sam deflected Azazel's broom with his forearm, and the wood splintered slightly through his collared shirt.

"Sammy, you really pulled a fast one, didn't you?" the enraged demon snarled through spit. "Oh, I liked you well enough. I had plans, too. But you and your...imbecile...brother go shooting me in the head!"

To be honest, Sam wasn't paying much attention to the ramblings. He was more focused on keeping his limbs attached to his torso, and avoiding the demon body sweat that was whizzing from the huffing janitor/Azazel.

He managed to keep Azazel at bay for ten minutes, before reluctantly turning, and running the hell out of there. His shoes smacked noisily on the rubber floor of the Languages/English hallway, and he could hear the disjointed swearing of the homicidal demon behind him.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid. There were three things he feared, three things that had swum clumsily back into his nightmares every night.

Dean dying for good, the world ending, and The Yellow-Eyed Demon.

Even if he was fat and shaking a broom.

"Hey, Sam!" A detached voice hissed from an empty classroom. Sam skidded to a stop, recognizing the sound immediately.

There stood Lira Meyers. In her fist she clutched a fencing sword, and on her head she wore her top hat at a jaunty tilt.

"Need some help killing janitors?"

...

The door to the Algebra classroom snapped open with a bang, sending a wave of stale fall air into the room. There in the doorway the Maribo twins stood. Crowley rolled his eyes, trying desperately to hide his confusion.

"Oh look," he sneered. "It's Thing One and Thing Two."

"That attitude is highly offensive," Stella brandished what appeared to be a plastic toy lightsaber. Where she had acquired it at a high school, Castiel did not want to know. He only sighed. These idiots, no matter how enthusiastic, where never going to take down the King of Hell, even demoted as he was.

No, he'd have to take things into his own hands. The Angel of the Lord sighed. If only saving people wasn't so embarassing...he cleared his throat, and closed his eyes.

"I AM IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER."

That certainly got Crowley's attention. The demon turned to gape at Cas with the uncomfortable look of someone who had finally received the present they had waited for their entire life. Which gave Chevelle the perfect opportunity to grab her sister's lightsaber, and smash it into the back of Crowley's stunned skull.

"EAT DIRT, MOTHERFRAKKER!" she yelled happily, once he was flopped forward, shock and anger etched over his face. Stella rolled her eyes.

In the minutes that followed, the twins released the Angels from their fiery prisons, Chevelle babbling gleefully all the while.

"Are you _really_?" she squealed as she helped extinguish the flames surrounding Castiel.

"Really what?" he asked, dread building in his stomach like acid.

"In love with that Dean dude." she waved her hand excitedly. "You know, the hot one."

Castiel frowned.

"I don't understand that reference," he tried nervously. From the corner, Gabriel snorted, suddenly snapping a large wad of pink bubblegum between his teeth.

"Shit just got real," was all Stella supplied, looking grave.

Cas did not think there was any fecal matter about, imaginary or real, and this confused him greatly. but he ignored them all completely, and gave Gabriel a flustered glare.

"We must leave this universe," he said, seriousness creeping into his voice. "It won't be long before Crowley is awake once more."

"Sorry to burst your bubble there, Cassie," Gabriel sighed. "But the dude took all my mojo. We're stuck here to we find where this asshat hid it."

"But we do not have time to stay here in this...den of sin and blasphemy," Cas replied his blue eyes flitting anxiously. "Bad things are happening."

"Yeah, Captain Obvious," Gabriel snapped. "How about we just go rescue the morons, and see where we're at, huh? The twins can watch Crowley."

Chevelle and Stella nodded, and the latter hoisted her lightsaber proudly.

Castiel resisted to urge to do an exasperated head-tilt, and instead nodded.

After all, it wasn't every day an Angel of the Lord got rescued by teenage girls impersonating Jedis.

"So," Gabriel sneered as soon as they had left the classroom behind. "On the way we can discuss this 'Dean' issue."

"Do not even start, brother, or I will smite your face in."

"Oooh, sassy. Hey, I think Dean's rubbing off on you, bro!"

If it was possible to be embarrassed to the point of homicidal thoughts, Castiel had officially achieved it.

...

**A/N: Oh, hey, forgot to tell y'all. As you now know, I like to flap my gums on the Interwebs. So head on over to my tumblr lostincatatonia to see more of my pointless ramblings. Thanks for everything guys!**


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